


The Care and Feeding of Your Blutbad (In Ten Easy-To-Follow Rules)

by Carlough



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 10:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carlough/pseuds/Carlough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "A domestic Monroe/Nick, where they move in together for the first time and set out some rules. Monroe has all these small, ridiculous rules that makes Nick want to laugh."</p><p>Monroe is neurotic, but Nick loves him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Care and Feeding of Your Blutbad (In Ten Easy-To-Follow Rules)

**Author's Note:**

> For the aforementioned prompt on the Grimm_Kink meme, found here: http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/3689.html?thread=2537321#cmt2537321

“Okay, I just want you to remember first and foremost that this was my house first, alright? And I’m not used to having other people actually _living_ here with me, so this is going to be a big change for me, okay? This is my den, my safe place, my Zen zone, so we’re going to need to put down a few ground rules.”

“Zen zone?” Nick parroted with a single raised eyebrow and the beginnings of a smirk.  God knew he thought Monroe’s usual quirks were cute, but if this was any indication, moving in together would be _hilarious_.

The Blutbad was unmoved.  “My home is my sanctuary, Nick.  I need a very specific order, a carefully structured routine to maintain this level of, ahem, _composure_.”

Nick grinned helpfully and tucked his thumbs in the corners of his pockets.  “So you need me to follow your OCD so you don’t go all carnivore grrr?”

Monroe stared.

He blinked.

Then he blinked again.

“Yes, _Buffy_ , I do.”

His Grimm just gave him an easy smile and rocked back on his heels.  “Okay then.  Let’s hear the rules.”

**Rule One: No wearing red (unless you want Monroe to ravage you, in which case go right ahead).**

“None at all?”

“No, just not ascots, they offend my sense of fashion.  Yes, none!  Do you want me to attack you?”

“You wouldn’t attack me.”

“Oh!  Oh, you think I wouldn’t?  You can’t forget that I’m a killer, Nick. At any moment I can attack you, try to maul you for nothing more than a stupid _color_.”

“You’ve never minded before when I wore red.”

“Yes, well, that’s just an example of my fantastically superior control.  I was about to jump you every ti- No! That is not what I meant and you know it!  I was going to attack you!”

“Attack me with _lovvve_?”

“I’ll show you an attack!”

_Twenty minutes later_

“You know, I think I like this kind of attack more.  Maybe I should just make my whole wardrobe red and see what happens.”

“Shut up.  If you’re still talking then obviously my attack hasn’t succeeded yet.”

**Rule Two: All socks must be folded in half, never inside out around each other.**

“Wait, what?  _Why_?”

“It’s important!”

“ _Socks_ are important?”

“Yes!  If they aren’t folded correctly it just – it just ruins everything!  My entire wardrobe is ruined by a pair of inside-out socks.”

“…Okay, well what about _my_ wardrobe?  I can fold my socks however I want and just, y’know, put them in my drawer and you’ll never have to see them.”

“But I’ll _know_ that they’re there, folded all inside-out, mocking me, and that’s just as bad.”

“What if I make you think I’m folding them the way you want me to but then I don’t?”

“Why would you tell me that?! Now I’ll get paranoid and have to check!”

“You’re really going to police my socks?”

“…Yes.”

“You’re ridiculous.

“I am not!”

“You are. You’re ridiculous and adorable.  Ridiculously adorable.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or charmed.”

“Be charmed.  Be so charmed you won’t notice me folding my socks.”

“Wait, you can’t just say that-Mmnf!”

“What was that?”

“Nick!  We’re never going to make it through all the rules at this rate!”

**Rule Three: Monroe’s towel must always be on the left.  Always.**

“What if I just pull it over a bit?”

“No.”

“Just a little?  Just an inch?”

“No. Don’t even think about it.”

“I totally wasn’t….Ow!”

“I told you not to touch it!”

“You didn’t have to smack me!”

“Yes I did.  You were touching it.”

“It’s a _towel_ Monroe.  Move it to the right.  Live on the wild side.”

“No. My towel is perfectly fine as it is.”

“What if the crease is towards the left?  Will the towel gremlins attack in my sleep?”

“Nah, the gremlins only come out if you leave it on the floor.  They use it as material for their nests.”

“Yeah right….Monroe?  There aren’t really gremlins, are there?  Monroe?  _Monroe_?!”

**Rule Four: Monroe plays the cello every night for exactly an hour starting at 7:30.**

“So?  What’s the big deal?  I love listening to you play.”

“I’m very serious about my cello practice, Nick.  You can’t interrupt. I can’t have any distractions whatsoever.  As far as I can be aware you’re nonexistent.”

“Wow.  Way to make a guy feel loved.”

“What can I say?  You’re distracting!”

“How?  Like, spinach in my teeth distracting or my ass looks hot in these jeans distracting?  Or red-ascot-fashion-nightmare distracting?”

“I don’t know, you’re just, you’re distracting!”

“So make me your muse!”

“My what?”

“Your muse!  Your cello-muse.  Think of me while you play and it will be fantastic.”

“I’m sorry, is this Twilight?  Do you want me to write you a song?  No. I will practice the same songs I always do in the same order at the same time and that is it.”

“…Dude.  You read Twilight?”

“What? No. That is not the only thing you’re going to draw from that statement.”

“Yes it is.  I can’t believe you read Twilight.”

“I did not!”

“So should I just assume you’re Team Jacob or are you against him because he makes Blutbaden look bad?”

“I am not dignifying that with a response.”

“Aw, c’mon!  You know you love it!...You’re still my favorite wolf-based creature!”

“Better be!”

**Rule Five: Wednesday night is tofu night.  No exceptions.**

“Monroe.  Come on.”

“What?”

“It’s like a white gelatinous blob, except it doesn’t even have the positive of being fatty enough to be gelatinous.  It’s just…there.”

“Yes, and it’s better for you than anything that you eat.”

“Hey, I eat healthy!”

“Nick.  Funyuns are not healthy.”

“They’re a sort-of onion-based snack!  Onions are a vegetable!”

“Yeah, no.  You’re eating tofu on Wednesdays.  That’s the law.”

“But _Monroe-_ ”

“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll make tofurkey.”

“You just take all the joy out of eating.”

“That’s what I’m here for.  Now finish your lentils.”

**Rule Six: Pilates.  Just, Pilates.**

“What _about_ Pilates?”

“You know.  _Pilates_.”

“Yes, Monroe, I know what Pilates is, but what I don’t know is why you’re telling me about it.”

“Because we’re going to do it together.”

“What? No.”

“Yes!  Think of it as a bonding experience.”

“I am.  I’m thinking of my joints bonding together in impossible positions.  It looks painful.”

“Oh quiet, you big baby, you’ll be fine.  Pilates is relaxing, it calms the body and the mind.”

“Really?  Because I think it would just really stress me out.”

“You’ll see, it’ll be fine.  Besides, it makes you really flexible.”

“Flexible?  I can do flexible.  I’m like the _king_ of flexible.  Want to see how flexible I am?”

“I want you to take your flexible self and do Pilates with me and maybe then we’ll see about following through with your cheesy pickup lines.”

“Fine.  Do I get a mat?”

“If you’re good.”

“Can mine be red?  Ow!  Why do you keep hitting me?  Monroe?  Monroe!”

“Sorry, gremlins made me do it!”

“…Wait, there _are_ gremlins?  Monroe?  _Monroe_?  Tell me if there are gremlins!”

**Rule Seven: The toothpaste must always be squeezed from the end up.  Don’t you dare pull any of that squeezing from the middle crap.**

“Okay, really?”

“Yes, really!  It makes a difference!  Squeezing from the bottom is not only the easiest and most efficient method of making sure that the maximal toothpaste output is achieved, it also looks neat and professional.”

“Professional.”

“Yes.”

“You think there’s a way to make your toothpaste look….professional.”

“There is!  I’ve seen it!  I use the professional method!”

“Monroe, I really doubt that there is some official secret method to squeezing toothpaste that only you and the Underground Dentists’ Association know about.”

“It’s obviously not a secret, because anybody who’s squeezing their toothpaste the _right_ way is using it.”

“Uh-huh.  I can’t believe you really said ‘maximal toothpaste output.’  It’s like your English teacher who thought he was Shakespeare meeting that one childhood dentist who told your parents that any candy would make your teeth fall out instantly.”

“I don’t know if I should take offense to that or not.”

“What you _should_ do is tone it down a notch and learn to just live and let live.  Try squeezing from the middle.  It may give you an adrenaline rush.”

“Oh yeah, and moving my towel is a walk on the wild side and mowing the lawn in any pattern but a diagonal is ‘hardcore.’”

“Hey, I still stand by that one.  Try some lateral motions, they may surprise you.  Isn’t that what your Pilates is all about?”

“I can’t deal with this.”

“Wait!  Come back!  I’ve got some other lateral motions we could try together!”

“How did I not know you were so cheesy?  I never would have asked you to move in with me had I known!”

“Hey!”

“‘Hey,’ you’re driving me insa- don’t you dare touch that toothpaste!”

**Rule Eight: Yes, there is a surprisingly large collection of morose-eyed Precious Moments figurines in one of the guest rooms.  No, you aren’t supposed to acknowledge their existence, and for the love of all that is holy, do not touch them.  But it would be nice if you picked up the latest limited edition figures the next time you pass the Hallmark store.**

“Oh my God, what the hell is that?”

“…What the hell is what, _Nick_?”

“Don’t you dare start getting all growly at me, you don’t have a right to when that, that _thing_ is staring at me!”

“It is not a _thing_ , it is the Bless the Days of Our Youth figurine and it cost $26.50, not including shipping and handling!”

“Monroe, you paid thirty freaking dollars for a creepy-ass sad-eyed clown that looks like it wants to eat your soul in the dead of night so it can be a real boy?!”

“It is not creepy, it is _precious_ , dammit!”

“It looks possessed!  I think I angered it!  It’s got one arm reaching out towards me, I swear!”

“Shut up, it’s an adorable figure that is an essential to any collection!  It pulls the Birthday Train.”

“Monroe, you cannot tell me that you seriously _collect_ these things.  That is creepy.  Even for you.”

“It is not creepy!  Thousands of people collect Precious Moments figures!”

“Yes!  And they’re all either old ladies or children whose well-meaning grandmother keeps giving them one every year on their birthday, probably to add to the Birthday Train!”

“It’s an adorable family tradition that anybody would be honored to have!”

“…Monroe?  I know you probably can’t use a lot of your old family traditions anymore, but that does not mean you have to find the creepiest, most disturbing human ‘tradition’ out there and become its biggest advocate.”

“No.  We are not having this conversation.  My Precious Moments are not up for debate.”

“You can’t be serious.  Monroe, this entire section is labeled ‘The Sympathy Collection.’ Dammit Monroe you have the ‘I’m sorry about your dead baby’ figurine!  Who the hell gives someone a dead-eyed figurine to constantly remind them of their dead baby!?”

“I just wanted a complete collection, okay?”

“Monroe.  You have the dead people _and_ dead pets figurines.  You have the entire ‘Birthday Train’ _including_ the murdering clown.  You have the freaking nativity and an entire garrison of angels.  This is a problem.”

“I just find them comforting, okay?  It’s soothing!  And if you loved me you would support me in this.”

“Support your haunted statue fetish?...Don’t give me that look!….Fine, what do you want?”

“The new Hallelujah Square model is only a hundred dollars not including tax and/or shipping and handling, please and thank you!”

“Wait, what?  A hundred dollars?!  You have to be kidding me!  Monroe!  Stop running away from me!...The clown is judging me again!”

**Rule Nine: The bed must be made with hospital corners in the morning, and must be turned down exactly half an hour before any sleeping (or other activities) ensues.  Yes, there is a reason; no, don’t ask why. Stop asking questions!**

“Doesn’t this seems a little…I don’t know, anal retentive?  Even for you?”

“Nick, how many times do I need to tell you this?  I only maintain my control due to a very strict regimen.”

“Yeah, you told me: diet, drugs and exercise.”

“ _And_ routine.  I thrive on routine, and it messes up my entire mood for the day when my routine is thrown off.  Not to mention the rest of my routine.”

“I know, I know, but really?  Hospital corners?”

“I like neatness.  It’s soothing to have everything orderly and in its place.”

“Monroe, it’s okay to admit that you have OCD tendencies.  I won’t judge you for it.”

“It’s not OCD!  I just like things the way I put them and you can’t mess them up…because!”

“Alright, alright, settle down.  I’ll make the bed however you want it.”

“Good.”

“…But really, why the ‘prepare the bed a half hour early’ thing?”

“I just like it that way, okay?!”

“No, no, I get it, routine and all, routine is good, but…why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Yes, because.  I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“Alright, fine then, no need to get all upset with me.”

“I’m not upset!  But if I was upset it would be very justified seeing as my supposedly loving boyfriend keeps laughing at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you!  I’m just…okay, so I’m laughing at you.  It’s not my fault when you’re being insane.  It’s kinda cute.”

“Well.  In that case I can possibly forgive your latest transgressions.”

“Oh really?”

_Three minutes later_

“Hey, wait, where are you going?!”

“Leaving you to turn down the bed.  I’ve got half an hour, right?  Think I may make a sandwich.  You want anything?”

“What the hell, Nick?!”

“Y’know, just letting the bed breathe and all.  _Because_.”

“I hate you.  I really, really hate you….And yes, get out last night’s gazpacho.”

**Rule Ten: The toilet paper hangs under the roll.  Always under.  What do you think we are, heathens?**

“Oh, come on.  Nobody likes it under!”

“I do!  I prefer that my toilet paper hangs under the roll.  I don’t see how anybody can stand it when it’s… _the other way_.”

“What, you can’t even say it?  Over, Monroe, the word is over, and that’s the way that most normal people like it.”

“Well I don’t.  I like it just how it is, and if you don’t then you can just get your own bathroom and put the paper however you want.”

“Monroe.  I am not building my own bathroom over the toilet paper roll.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to live with it my way then, won’t you?”

“You do realize you’re being ridiculous, right?”

“I’m being perfectly rational.  You just don’t want to see things my way.”

“You mean because you’re a crazy person?”

“Because I’m _right_.”

“…You know, it’s all ‘over’ at my house.”

“So?”

“So if I just stay at my place, we won’t have this problem- Stop grabbing me!”

“No.  You aren’t going anywhere.  You’ll learn to like it under.  It’ll be great.  Like Stockholm Syndrome.”

“Buddy, I don’t really think you thought that sentence through very well-”

“All of our toilet paper will fold under and you’ll like it, you’ll see.  It’ll be great.  It’ll all be okay.  You’ll stay right here with our under toilet paper and you’ll love it.”

“Monroe?  Not that this isn’t great and all, but can you stop petting my head like that?  Combined with the hissing it’s getting a little awkward…I feel like the clown is going to show up at any minute and steal my soul while you hold me down…it’s probably teamed up with the toilet paper to spite me….Monroe?  Can you put me down now?

“…Please?”

~~~

“And that’s it!”  Monroe smiled pleasantly at Nick, who stared back at him with what felt like a permanently quirked eyebrow.

“You do realize that you’re insane, right?  Just getting that out there.  You are totally, one hundred and ten percent nuts.”

The Blutbad began to protest once again that he was _totally sane_ , Nick just didn’t properly understand his intricacies yet, when his Grimm’s arms slid around his waist and a hot breath appeared against his neck, making him shiver helplessly.

“Lucky for you, I don’t seem to have all of my faculties either.”  Warm lips followed up the statement and the Blutbad moaned as they blazed a trail up his neck to his mouth.

The moment was completely killed when Nick then laid one last sloppy, smacking kiss on his lips, smiled innocently and said, “Now you go do some laundry or fix a clock or something while I turn down the bed.  This’ll take a while.”

Monroe’s jaw dropped open before a playful growl escaped his throat.

“Burkhardt!”

Needless to say, Monroe broke one of his own rules that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did all of that Precious Moments research. It's all true. It's all horrifying.


End file.
